


Not the Ghost

by landofhorses



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Hunger - Alma Katsu
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, This is a Textbook Example of How Not to Deal With the Death of a Loved One, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but not a whole lot, some - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landofhorses/pseuds/landofhorses
Summary: The man was hardly recognizable from where James stood, slouched over a half finished glass of something alcoholic and looking disheveled. He’d never been exactly the neatest of men – often looked like he’d just crawled out the woods no matter what he’d been doing prior – but this was different, it’s if he’s given up on maintaining an appearance entirely.
Relationships: Milford "Milt" Elliot/James F. Reed (past), William Eddy/James F. Reed
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not me actually finishing a fic with more than one chapter. 
> 
> This is very sad, and not really a fix it. You have been warned.

The man was hardly recognizable from where James stood, slouched over a half finished glass of something alcoholic and looking disheveled. He’d never been exactly the neatest of men – often looked like he’d just crawled out the woods no matter what he’d been doing prior – but this was different, it’s if he’s given up on maintaining an appearance entirely. James is wary, and guessing from the wide berth that the other patrons at the bar are giving him they are as well. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and walks over.

He doesn’t notice James approach him, far too busy studying the wood of the table and running a hand down his glass. “Will?” he asks hesitantly, afraid that the man might have forgotten the letter he had sent. It wouldn’t be surprising, James doubts that this is the first drink he’s had tonight – or the second.

The man whips around, startled out of whatever stupor he’d found himself in. His face is split into a wide grin, but his eyes hold a frantic kind of desperation that has James nervously searching his pockets for something to fiddle with anyway.

“You came!” Will practically shouts with barely contained excitement. The glares he receives from across the bar make him continue quieter, though no less elated, “I didn’t think you would, it was getting late and – ” he cuts himself off, looks away for a moment, “did you have trouble findin’ it? I know it ain’t really your kind of place.” The man laughs at his own weak joke, but stops when James doesn’t join in. 

“You said you needed to see me?” James asks, his voice quavering and rubbing at his handkerchief with his fingers. Will’s letter had been short but serious in nature, a tone which he had never been fond of. The man had always been light-hearted, finding humor in most situations – a fool if James was being perfectly honest. This newly found urgency had been a complete change in character, and it had worried him.

“Not need exactly, more like…well – ” he drops his voice to a whisper, now apparently afraid of being overheard, “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He finishes, gripping his glass tightly in one hand. His expression shifts into a grimace, “Never mind, it was silly. You can go now if you want, I’m sure that you have more important things to be doin’.” Will tries to wave him off.

James stays, doesn’t know where else he would go if he leaves. 

“It’s not been easy,” he says, and takes the empty seat besides Will much to his surprise. They are sitting close enough that their knees brush against each other anytime one of them shifts. He tries to ignore it, “not earning as much as I should back at the orchard, but that’s just the way business is sometimes.” Will nods along like he understands, and he probably does – James sent him some money for a mining venture a while back. He wonders how it’s doing, it can’t be good, not with the kind of threadbare clothing the man is sporting. He looks down at the poorly patched holes in his own waistcoat self-consciously, it’d be a thing that they’d share then.

They don’t speak for a while, the quiet between them is almost comfortable. Will takes hesitant sips of his drink, and James watches him intently. His hand is shaking enough that the liquid in his cup noticeably sloshes around each time he brings it to his lips. He keeps sending nervous glances in James’s direction like he’s worried that the other man might disappear, his unused hand gripping the edge of the bar. Will’s mind is occupied by something, that much is clear.

James is the first to break the silence, “Margret is gone.” He says, in a hope that a confession of his own might make the man more willing to open up.

“Dead?” Will asks, soft and sad – this isn’t unfamiliar to him. James remembers the way his face fell when he delivered the news of Eleanor’s passing, and how despondent he became after he made it down the mountain without either of his two children. He had hoped that the hurt would lessen some as time passed, but it seems to have only gotten worse. 

James shakes his head, “No she’s fine, we got divorced last year.” He doesn’t try to explain further, doesn’t even know how he would. He’d made so many mistakes, it’s hard to tell which one was the final straw for Margret.

Will lets out a low whistle, “I’ve been there friend, that’s real rough.” Has he? James can’t recall him ever mentioning remarrying, but it had been such a long time since they talked. So many changes – he hardly knows the man anymore. Will tries to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder, but James moves so that it doesn’t land. He lets his hand fall limply in his lap instead, “how’d the kids take it?”

“I don’t know, she won’t let me see them.” He doesn’t look at Will, too afraid that the man might spot the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He knows that they are alright, he still gets letters from Virginia on occasion – the girl was far too much like him for her own good – but they do little to replace what he is missing.

Will slamming his hand on the bar shocks him out of his thoughts. “Damn woman! I never pictured her being the vindictive type,” he’s back to shouting again, angry enough that he forgets himself, “and after all you did to save them?” James doesn’t mention that they wouldn’t have been in the position of needing saving if it weren’t for him, and he suspects that it is at least partially the reason she left. “It just ain’t right, I mean you’re a real hero!” The laugh that erupts from James is entirely humorless.

“You are!” Will grabs him hard by the shoulders, his grip is tight to the point of pain. The man’s eyes are wide as he frantically searches James’s face for any trace of understanding. Try as he might he can’t shake the hold, and Will doesn’t look interested in easing it. James is scared and sending terrified glances across the bar in the hopes that somebody might save him. Unfortunately, his fellow patrons only seem interested in gawking at the scene, their silent judgment makes his face heat.

Eventually James nods, as he doesn’t trust that his voice won’t shake. Will looks at him hard for a moment, but drops his hands, apparently satisfied with the response. He doesn’t speak again, instead he finishes off his drink. He then attempts to wave over the bartender for another, but it goes unnoticed, or more likely ignored. James should take this opportunity to leave, but he can’t – or doesn’t want to rather. He remembers Will being one of the only two men to stand for him not too long ago; he has to repay the favor.

“I’ve rented a room not far from here, why don’t we go talk there?” James doesn’t think this is the kind of conversation that Will would want to have in public, and besides the angry glares from what he assumes to be the proprietor are starting to make him feel antsy. He still makes the suggestion lightly, in hopes that it won’t ignite the man’s already flared temper, but he needn’t have worried, Will accepts his offer eagerly.


	2. Chapter 2

They don’t talk on the way to the inn, James is afraid that somebody might overhear them, but it also gives him ample opportunity to think. Will follows closely behind him, his horse not nearly as ragged in appearance as its rider. The man is not as drunk as James had first assumed; he’d had no trouble mounting his horse nor did he stumble around like a drunkard would. It made his behavior all the more perplexing, and in the end more concerning.

There isn’t anybody manning the front desk when they arrive, which is likely for the best. James doesn’t think he could find an appropriate reason for why he’s leading a man up to his room this late at night, let alone to the stuffy, old woman that runs this place. They don’t linger in the entrance way for very long, not wanting to test their luck James leads Will to the stairs. The steps creak underfoot, the only thing that breaks their self-imposed silence. It doesn’t take long before they arrive at the white door of his room.

He fiddles with the lock of the door for longer than he needs to, trying to buy some more time before the inevitable. When he does finally open the door Will rushes past him to take a seat at the small desk in the corner. James follows more slowly – sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands folded nervously in his lap.

“Did you read it?” Will speaks after a moment, but James has no clue to what he is referring to. When he doesn’t respond the man continues, “I know Thornton said somethin’ about you helping out, so I was curious to see if you have. I understand why you wouldn’t of course but – ”

James stops him before he can continue, recognizing what it was that Will was getting at, “I have, but it’s been a while.” He still doesn’t know what this has to do with anything.

“Then you saw all the things you did, printed plain on paper – the whole of it. So, you have to know!” Ah, so they were still on this then.

“Most of it is false, which I’m sure you’re aware of,” he sends a glare in Will’s direction, the man has the good sense to look sheepish, “I had half a mind to set him straight when I first read it.” The descriptions of himself had been the worst part. He could admit that some of Will’s own ‘heroics’ had elicited a chuckle from him, but he couldn’t understand where the man had got the idea that any of that was true about James. He’s the cause of so much harm, so much death, and all earned through his own stupidity.

Will doesn’t say anything, avoiding James’s gaze entirely. He worries that he may have upset the already fragile man and prepares to apologize, but Will snaps his attention back, “so you didn’t like it?” He sounds so defeated; his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. James wants to reach out and comfort him, but he doesn’t know if it’d be accepted.

Will must take his silence as agreement, “I’m sorry.” He says before wiping at his face with his hands and getting up to leave. James rushes to stop him, without thinking he places a pleading hand on the man’s chest, they both look at it for a moment.

“The stuff about me it’s lies!” He cannot look at Will, doesn’t want to see the kind of expression the man has on his face, “I’m – I’m not like that.” James’s hand is still on his chest, he goes to move it, but the man catches it in his own.

“I just needed some good – it couldn’t just all have been for nothin’” Will squeezes his hand before dropping it, “but it was, wasn’t it? All those people – Eleanor and my kids died for nothin’” he sobs, “we should have listened to you.”

James thinks about Milt Elliot, a man who had only stayed behind on his orders. “We all made mistakes Will,” he says after a moment, the memories of his lost teamster making him slow to respond.

The man doesn’t seem comforted by James’s words, in fact they seem to have only made him more distraught. He can see the man’s tears glistening in the dim candlelight as they fall from his eyes, this is the least composed that he’s ever been in James’s company. He reaches out to hold him, to stop him from breaking apart.

Will falls into it, practically collapsing into James as he does so. He struggles to hold up the man’s considerably larger weight, but he eventually succeeds in bringing them both to the bed where they can sit. His face is buried in James’s shoulder, and he can do nothing but gently stroke Will’s head as the man soaks his shirt. “You were always the very best of us,” he says after regaining some composure, “it’s a shame that they – we – didn’t see that.” He’s staring directly at James now, almost like he’s asking for something.

He thinks he knows what Will wants, and figures that this could be good for both of them. He’d not been with anybody since he and Milt had parted ways, couldn’t bring himself to even though he still longs for it. Perhaps he could pretend – just for a moment, that would do.

He cups the man’s head and bringing it towards his so that their lips can meet. The kiss is something that Will quickly dominates, pushing James back onto the bed and ripping at both of their clothes like he’s afraid that he’s running out of time. Maybe he is.

James halts him a hand on his arm after he slides his pants down, “not like this.” He says softly, causing the man above him to immediately scramble off of him. He then turns himself so that he’s on his hands and knees instead – it’ll be easier for him to pretend this way.

The man takes this time to rummage around in his discarded pants for something, he returns quickly. It’s a tin of some kind, but James can’t quite make out exactly what it is. “It’s for my hands, when I work.” He says, answering a question that James didn’t ask.

It doesn’t take long before a slick finger is pressing at his entrance, and he lets out a puff of breath as it breaches him. James takes a hold of himself, moving in time with Will own motions inside of him. The man leans over his body, mouthing at the bare skin of his neck. He is surprisingly gentle with him, a stark contrast with his behavior earlier this evening. It’s not long before he’s adding a second, and a third, making James moan and rock back onto his hand.

Eventually the man withdraws, and he lets out a soft whine in protest. “You ready?” Will asks, and James nods. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to imagine another man’s hands on him as Will positions himself, but it’s too bright in this room – the flickering light of the lamp on the side table another reminder of reality.

He throws a hand back, grabbing at a strong arm before Will can enter him, “wait, can you dim the light?” The man makes a questioning noise but does as asked soaking everything in darkness. The only source of light now was the moon, peaking out slightly from in between the curtains. It was still too much, but it would have to do. He nods his head again, and Will lines himself up and pushes in.

“Yes – yes, that’s it,” he says as he full seats himself within James, pausing to allow the man beneath him to adjust some before he starts moving. The things coming from Will’s mouth are all wrong, and James almost wants to call the whole thing off, but he can’t – not when he can shut his eyes tighter and think of sweet nothings coming from somebody else. He feels guilty for it, Will doesn’t deserve this, but it doesn’t stop him.

James attempts to grab hold of his cock once more, but Will bats his hand away. “Let me show you how well I can take care of you,” he says as he takes James in a clumsy hand, this combined with the snapping of Will’s hips into his own is enough to having him gritting his teeth against the sounds threatening to spill from him. He shoves a hand in his mouth to stifle his noises when it becomes too much, mindful of the presence of others in the building, he doesn’t need to add that to his own humiliation. Will is panting heavy with exertion, and muttering things that James doesn’t try to catch. The man is close, but so is he.

When Will does finish it’s with a barely concealed groan into James’s shoulder, who follows him shortly afterwards. Will is quiet for a moment, catching his breath and pressing kisses to the side of James’s face and back – and for a while James can be back in Illinois. During a too hot summer, in a bed much nicer. He had told Milt that he loved him then, it was the first time – nearly the last.

“I love you,” he whispers, caught up in his dreams of light and warmth. When he opens his eyes though he not in Illinois, and Milt is nowhere to be found – only Will. The man doesn’t seem to notice James’s misstep, or if he does, he doesn’t mention it, simply hoping out of bed.

James doesn’t move, even though the drying wetness between his legs is starting to make him itch. Will stares at him for a moment, like he can’t quite comprehend what exactly had just occurred. “I missed you,” he says finally, “that’s why I wrote you that letter – it had been years and – and – ” He cuts himself off, but this is confession enough.

“I know,” James responds, and he does – had seen enough. They weren’t so different he and Will, both lonely, and stuck in places they have no business being.

He has an idea, “you could come back with me? I’ve got some work I need doing around the farm.” He doesn’t, and the last thing he needs is to take on more employees while he’s losing money, but he can’t find it in himself to let the one person who might understand him go.

Will snorts and doesn’t stop setting himself to rights, “I’ll think about it.” It doesn’t sound too promising. James gets up and grabs his hand before he can make for the door, he must try one more time.

“ _please_ ,” he pleads, a more direct request for the other man’s company. It’s debasing but facing the prospect of an eternity alone he has no other choice.

Will’s face instantly softens, “I need to check on a couple of things, but I’ll be there – I – I will.” He’s nervous, fidgeting in place, “if that’s really what you want.”

James nods, brings the man’s hand to his face so that he can cup his cheek. “It is,” he looks up at Will, his expression is unreadable, but eventually he leans down and presses a light kiss to James’s lips.

“We’ll be alright, you see,” he pushes his forehead against James’s, his tone is nearly optimistic. With that he flees out the door, giving James one last, lingering look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost 100% sure that real James Reed would have loved Thornton's descriptions of him, but the version in The Hunger has got none of that confidence. 
> 
> If you'd like to follow me for more Donner Party/The Hunger related material, you can do so @JamsWaggon on twitter.  
> Thank you for taking the time to give this a read!


End file.
